


Light of Dawn

by Sethana



Category: Bleach
Genre: Family, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Semi-Self Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 13:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethana/pseuds/Sethana
Summary: Dying so suddenly was already unexpected. Reincarnated into a world of fiction was something no one could prepare for. Being one of said fiction's main characters' child? Alright, just stop at unexpected.In which Ukitake had a daughter that no one expected.





	Light of Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Bleach did this to me. It dragged me back into its territory and made me write this new creation of mine. Even though I still have other fic to update--
> 
> Enjoy the prologue!

In all actually, despite my grievances that served me more headaches than my situation itself, I got off lucky, especially in a world like this. And I knew it, really. In fact, I was grateful.

Didn’t mean it sit well with me half of the time.

“Akira-san!”

 _‘Oh no,’_ was all I could think before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around my midsection and hauled me up. Away from the sliding doors that led to the front gate. And I almost reached it..!

If I could groan right now, I would. Alas my body was not yet developed enough for that. So instead, I peered behind the black fringes of my hair and babbled incoherently, hoping that it would convey my annoyance.

The man’s face pinched in what I guessed to be exasperation. “This is the third time you’ve wandered around the house. Do you know how dangerous it is?”

_‘Considering that there’s stashes of swords and other sharp pointy weapons all over the house, I think I do.’_

But of course, no matter how much I wanted to say that, I couldn’t. I just gave a questioning sound that if translated into words would probably be a sarcastic remark.

The man paused, looking down at me with furrowed brows. “Is that sarcasm?”

“Buh-guh?” _‘What makes you say that?’_

“Yeah, there's no way. No matter how smart you are, you can’t possibly already understand sarcasm.” He shook his head. “Enough of that, let’s get you back to your room.”

I cried out as the man walked away from the doors and deeper into the maze-like house, holding me securely in his arms.

 _‘Oh, c’mon, I just want to see the front garden! And the front gate! And the street outside! And- okay, maybe I_ do _want to get out of the house and maybe that’s considered as running away at my current age but_ come on! _’_

Unfortunately, the man paid no heed to my frantic babbles. He simply adjusted his hold on me and keep on walking. Until he eventually stopped in front of my room, a weakly squirming child in his arms.

 _‘I hate you, Botan-san.’_ I sniffled, but it came out more like a strange sounding huff. _‘I love you for being my wonderful caretaker, but I hate you for depriving my sense of adventure.’_

As if knowing my childish complaints, the man rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. We’re here already. You can wander around, but _only_ in your room, you hear me?”

 _‘I already spend a lot of time in there!’_ “Waaa!”

“No excuses.” Botan-san said again, now in his ‘I’m-scolding-you-listen-to-me’ voice. “You’ve given the maids enough heart attacks.”

 _‘I didn’t mean to!’_ “Wah wuh!”

He pursed his lips. “Look at me, arguing with a three year old.” But even though his words sound irritated, the look in his eyes said otherwise.

 _‘Pfft, you’re enjoying it.’_ I blew a raspberry.

The wide-eyed indignant look that he gave me made me snort. “I’m not enjoying it!” Really, sometimes, I wondered if my caretaker actually understood what I said.

 _‘Sure, whatever you say.’_ “Baaa.”

“Why you witty child--”

“Mori-san?” A familiar voice called out, and I felt my face stretching with the wide grin I had.

“Buuuh buh!”

“Huh?” Botan turned around, and immediately bowed his head in respect. “Ukitake-dono!”

In front of them stood the familiar form of the lord of the house, captain of the 13th Division of Gotei 13, Ukitake Juushirou, clad in his uniform and haori. The white haired man smiled softly, and somehow, it made me feel like everything would be alright in the world.

“I see that Akira just returned from one of her voyage?” Ukitake looked at us in amusement.

“Ah,” Botan adjusted his hold on me. “My apologies, Ukitake-dono. I lost her when I went out to the kitchen--”

Ukitake shook his head. “No, no, Mori-san, it’s alright. I know that Akira is too spirited to stay still for long. I’m sure it’s not your fault.”

“Still-”

 _'Oh, quit it.’_ “Ba!” I slapped my hands on Botan's face, causing him to sputter. “Bo! Ba!”

Ukitake chuckled. “I think Akira agrees.”

 _‘Sure do.’_ “Buh!” I nodded seriously.

Botan, in face of two persuasive people -- or one man and one child, backed down. “Alright..”

 _'Good. Now,’_ “Da! Buuh buh!” I squirmed in Botan's hold and waved my arms wildly, stretching them toward the white haired man. “Buh buh!”

Ukitake's eyes twinkled with happiness. “Ah? Do you want me to hold you?”

“Bah!” I kicked my legs expectantly.

Carefully, my caretaker handed me over, to which I obediently stayed still until the white haired man's arms wrapped around me securely. I let out a content gurgle as I burrowed into the man's chest, tiny fists grasping the fabric of shihakusho that he wore and eyes fluttering close.

“Hey there, Akira.” Ukitake whispered comfortingly, brushing my hair back. “How're you doing?”

I mumbled quietly into the shihakusho. The familiar scent of tea and sweets already starting to lull me to sleep. Surprising, I knew. But I long had learned that babies could instantly fall asleep with the right condition. And, well,

one's parent scent did wonders to a baby.

“Falling asleep already?” I heard Ukitake say. In reply, I let out a tired grunt. “You must be tired, hm? Alright, I'll take you to bed.”

I felt a pang of guilt at the faintly disappointed tone and mumbled in what I hoped to sound like an apology.

As if understanding me, Ukitake said, “It's okay.” He patted my back. “I can spend more time with you when you wake up. Now, go to sleep. I'll be with you.”

I burrowed deeper and tighten my hold, only letting go after he gently pried my hands away -- with no small hesitation on my part. The man slowly put my down, and I blinked drowsily at the new position, half-lidded eyes staring aimlessly at the wooden ceiling. A blanket was then pulled to my chest, and Ukitake stroked my head caringly, whispering softly until I felt the darkness of unconsciousness consume me.

Yeah, living as Ukitake Juushirou's daughter might be one of the best thing to happen to me.

 

* * *

  

I was nobody, really. At least, I wasn't in my previous life. Just your everyday third-year highschool student that tried to do her best to get accepted into a good college while silently worrying about tuition cost. That was what I was.

I didn't always spoke of my previous life like one spoke about the weather. No, it was an inner struggle that lasted for a whole year that finally convinced me that, yes, those memories of an eighteen year old girl was who I _was_ , but not who I _currently_ was.

That, and many many broken objects and countless wails in the most random of times.

The first thing I remembered was sluggishly waking up to warmth. Which I later found out was someone's arms wrapped around my whole body. I wasn't yet aware of my physical age, and frankly I wasn't conscious enough to. So I fell asleep once again, now to a low hum rather than weak beepings.

Then I woke up again, more conscious than before, and practically went into shock after realizing my condition. It was a hectic day filled with hectic people in panic.

Third time's the charm -- I woke up in the familiar embrace with an uneasiness that prompted tears and wails. My mind was in chaos -- _where am I why am I like this I'm scaredI'mscared_ \-- and my body felt so uncomfortable and foreign and it felt like I would never stop crying but then there was a low hum -- a song, I belatedly noticed, and slowly, steadily, my cries faded and my breath evened out and calmness returned to me. That was when I saw the pale yet kind face framed by long white hair, looking down at me with such tenderness that it almost hurt to look.

The man spoke, “There, there, Akira.” And it took me a few minutes to comprehend the foreign and familiar words. _Japanese_ , my mind supplied helpfully after I stared wide-eyed at the man until my eyes sting from the dryness. “Tou-san is here.” _Tou-san. Father. Father is here..? That man is my father--?_

A few days later, after many lullabies and one-sided conversations that comforted me more than I thought it should be able to, I began to associate that wan face and soft white hair with 'father’.

At that time, it never crossed my mind that my father seemed oddly familiar. I just chalked it up to a child's instincts. Well, I wasn't wrong per se, but neither was I completely right.

A few months since I woke up in the body of a baby, wondering _how the hell did this happen_ , I began having weird dreams. Strange dreams. I _knew_ that I shouldn't be a baby, my advanced thoughts assured me as such, but I didn't actually know _who_ I was. But then these.. dreams came, and suddenly I began to remember.

I was a highschooler. Third year, eighteen years old. Preparing for national exam while hoping I would be accepted in a good name college. Had a younger brother and some close friends. It wasn't exactly the most interesting life, but it was so.. familiar, _real_. And that was because it was, wasn't it -- real? Because, once, I had been that girl that struggled to choose what path to take in life.

But I wasn't anymore. Or was I? My body was different, my name -- _Akira_ , her father had said repeatedly in a breathy voice of awe and wonder -- and I would bet my appearance too -- they were all different, let alone my current family. That girl had parents and a brother, I only knew my father. That girl was reaching into adulthood, I was barely into my first year. That girl was _gonealivedead_ , and I was _here_. They were enough differences.

Except deep down, in the bottom of my mind, in the darkest recess of my being, in the feeling of my soul, I knew that that girl and I were the same, that we were one.

If so, why was I a baby instead of a teenager? Why was I like _this_ instead of like _that_?

The answer came to me during a stormy night.

It wasn't unusual for me to wake up during a storm. Despite my deep sleep, whenever there was a storm I always instinctively wake up, be it from a dreamless sleep or a happy one. It was like there was an alarm ringing inside me, warning me of the storm, telling me to _be careful be safe get away it'sdangerouswatchout_ \--

A heavy rain. A flash of lightning. A roll of thunder. A loud honk. A car.

_IthurtithurtIcan'tfeelanythingelse help --_

Faintly, I remembered hearing a startled shout and a door slamming open, of a concerned voice and safe embrace. But I was too deep, too far gone in the memory of another lifetime to notice anything more.

For the rest of the night, the constant beepings of a machine haunted me.

It took a week for me to recover from the aftershock of remembering my demise. My father's already pale face was whiter and more sickly than usual, dark purple bruises under his eyes told me of his lack of sleep and the rattling coughs sign that he was ill. But despite his obvious fatigue and illness, he always stayed by me side; fed me, clothed me, bathed me, held me and talked to me. It made it easier for me to overcome the memories. The bright smile and hopeful look in his eyes after I returned to my self soothed the pain even more.

Reincarnation wasn't so bad.

Then, sometime after I turned one, I started noticing things. And when I said things, I meant _things that strike me as odd and are beginning to concern me_.

For one, I still couldn't walk. Oh, crawling I managed to do somewhere along the year. But walking? Nope, not even a single step. It might have something to do with the fact that I was still as small as I felt like during my early months. Therefore I blamed it on my small and not-exactly-strong body. It was logical.

And then I realized that I couldn't talk either. Even though a full year had passed. Any words that I tried to force out of my throat only came out as gurgles and high-pitched whines. I distinctly remembered someone telling me that babies began to talk at 12 months, give or take. Well, 12 months have passed and still incoherent babbles. Late bloomer? Nothing else explained it, so once again I chucked this problem into 'my body's fault’.

Third, last but not least; the one thing that I had ignored for a while and was proving to be unignorable. These weird sensation of presences that were _everywhere_ . It was like.. like feeling something alive, but not really. Like dust particles that contained electricity or heat or just plain energy and were spread in every single surface -- even inside objects and plants and animals and _people_ . It was distracting and no small amount of unsettling. Mainly, because I could feel it inside me and it was _moving_ , a constant stream of energy-like-particles inside of me that circulate like blood did. It.. was strange and uncomfortable and I did not -- _could not_ come up with explanation.

It only went downhill from there. Straight to chaos in a flowery handbasket.

Now, though I knew some basic Japanese and could understand at least a third of what someone said, it was still a foreign language. One that I took a class for for three years, but still a foreign language. With how unique the words in Japanese were, the lines between names and words blurred together, y'know? I only knew my name because my father kept saying that while looking at me, and I somehow remembered that 'akira’ _was_ a name. I also knew that my caretaker was called 'Mori’, and the maid who cleaned my room was ‘Takegawa’. Oh, and -- my father was 'Ukitake’, or at least I was pretty sure it was.

Ukitake.. the name striked me as familiar. Like I've heard it many times before, long ago. Was it in my ~~life~~  time before? But how could I knew my current father's name back then? Did I know him as _her_ then? How? That was borderlining creepy and unsettling.

That was, until the day where my father's friend visited. At which I could only gape in shock at the man.

Tall build, long brown hair, a straw hat, and a bright pink flower-patterned kimono over the familiar black clothes.

A bright pink that _seared_ itself into my eyes.

I knew that kimono. I knew that hat-covered face. I knew _him_.

“Shunsui,” My father had greeted.

 _Kyouraku Shunsui_.

“Juushirou,” Kyouraku had nodded with a smile.

Juushirou. Ukitake _\-- Ukitake Juushirou._

How did I not piece it together? The long white hair. The pale yet kind face. The gentleness around kids. The persistent illness. The black uniform. _The white haori. The name._

_I am fucking blind --_

And, well, if I wailed at the top of my lungs at that moment, it was all the shock's fault.

Thus how I came to the conclusion that, somehow, impossibly, despite all laws of life, against all logic and other things that made sense, I was reincarnated into a world of fiction.

Specifically; Bleach.

That manga-slash-anime about a fifteen year old hybrid boy that wield a giant kitchen knife and fight monsters alongside other swords-wielding dysfunctional dead people and some humans with special power. And did I mention said boy's ridiculous plot armor or the big bad's plan to rule the entire universe through illusions and trickery and creating his own monsters?

Yup. Wonderful.

Oh, and I was a daughter of a shinigami. So technically I died and become.. a living dead? Technicalities, so difficult.

When Kyouraku came back for a visit, I tried to make it up by hugging the hem of his hakama and babbled my incoherent apologies. Watching his tentative smile became a genuine one was worth it.

The random meltdowns that followed for months was something that I just shoved to the back of my mind.

My father -- Ukitake -- _and wow it had been hard for me to look at him the same way again_ , began teaching me how to talk after I turned two. Of course, after two years of hearing people talking in rapid Japanese, I started picking up things. Mainly, I could understand _at least_ half of what people said. Ukitake's lessons really helped with that, and now I could mostly understand what the heck people were saying. Though I still couldn't speak without sounding like I was choking to death -- to my disappointment -- I could comprehend the words and that was enough.

With the knowledge of me being in the.. Bleach Universe.. _God, that sounds like something straight out of a fanfiction_ \-- many other things started to made sense with the new light I view this life in. My seemingly late growth was due to the nature of souls in the Soul Society. The strange-but-now-not-uncomfortable buzzings all around me was reishi, the makeup particles of this world and source of the super-human powers everyone seemed to possess. The pressing but comforting aura around my father was his reiryoku a.k.a. his super powers. It all made sense so quickly that I chortled in the middle of feeding time.

From there was a spiral of discoveries as I prodded around this new and strange circumstance I was born into. My father was the head of Ukitake Family, a low class noble family of Soul Society. I had five uncles and two aunts, all of whom I see rarely. My house was located in the area between Seireitei and Rukongai. The whole entirety of the 13th Division had probably already visited me. And I was born before canon time.

And I mean, _way_ before canon time.

(I almost fainted when I saw a significantly younger Hirako Shinji -- captain of the 5th Division, leader of the Vizards -- milling about the first district of Rukongai in a plain black shihakusho during one of my visit to Outside, no ridiculously long golden hair nor white haori in sight.)

Boy was it a revelation. Reincarnated into Bleach as one of the captain's daughter was one thing -- or several -- but finding out that you were at least over a century away from canon time was _another_. Mind boggling; but after everything, I found it an easier pill to swallow.

Did this mean anything to me? Well, maybe. It was a surprise, but one that I could accept. If anything because that meant I didn't have to prepare myself for shit to go down in a violent orange turbulence any time soon.

I would like to enjoy my afterlife, thank you. Ichigo could still content himself somewhere up there in the meantime.

I snuggled into the warm sheets around me, letting out a content coo as I slowly cracked my eyes open.

“Oh, hey, Akira.” I felt a large hand gently patting my head. “Had a good sleep?”

“Buuh,” I nodded, rubbing at my bleary and itchy eyes with not-so-coordinated hands. “Baa ba? Bah guh?” _'Did you stay with me?’_

“Of course,” My father said, as if knowing what exactly I had said. Which if it wasn't so convenient, would probably creep the hell out of me. “I said that I would stay with you, didn't I?”

Man, Ukitake, _you_ _are precious._ I thanked the higher power up there that decided on reincarnating me into a fictional world as one of the kindest characters’ child. _I am very grateful._

“Bah!” I kicked my legs under the sheets. “Buh bah!”

“You want me to hold you?”

“Guh!” I held up my arms, making grabby hands toward him.

Ukitake chuckled softly, “Alright.” And he complied.

_Yeah, life is good._

 

And so how I came to accept my life after a shitstorm of revelations.

**Author's Note:**

> (Semi)Self Insert Fanfiction! This is the first one that I've posted and is actually pretty proud of. So voila! Not exactly the most original idea -- or even original at all -- but I enjoy it so let us all enjoy it. Just like how Akira will enjoy her new life.
> 
> Just a heads up; I'll try to update regularly with consistent length, but I don't promise it'll be a quick update. But I do hope you'll all still read this. The reason I posted this is to motivate myself to finish a story -- unlike some other stories I have, ahem! -- so I'll try my best.
> 
> And another, do tell me how you guys think about the prologue. Feedbacks encourage me to write more, just like other writers!
> 
> Thanks and see ya guys later!


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